The Sun
by decaf-latte
Summary: So for Hermione's birthday I decided to write one of those 20 random facts things...but it sort of turned into a CHr fic...review! flame! something!


**Okay, so I found this on LJ. One of those '20 random facts' deals. Soooooooo….here goes.**

**P.S. See if you can figure out if it's AU or not**** before number twenty…0-**

_Fact Number one: Cedric's hair has this weird little wave on the left side when it gets too long. It was too long on his first day of third year, as his mother had been on a trip to Italy to do some diploma__tic work about the flags. (Italy had won the Quidditch World Cup that year, and some people were a little _too_ enthusiastic in their celebrations – the muggles were getting suspicious when their flags started shouting things like long live Italia.) and his father was…well let's just say not as proficient at those types of charms as his mother, and even as a third year, Cedric rather valued his ears. Needless to say, Hermione, a first year, and very nervous, had found the tiny wave somehow comforting, although when she realized that it was __**that**__ that made her slightly more at ease, knew it was just a little strange, and probably not something she should share with anyone. Ever. (Actually, she still wondered __**why**__ it was that she found that comforting, especially one night in her fourth year…but we'll get to that later.)_

_Fact Number two: Hermione has an almost invisible smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, which becomes slightly more visible after her sunburn fades. Cedric first noticed her freckles on a May evening in his 6__th__ year, as she bent over a history of elf enslavement. His attention was drawn when she kept scratching her nose, presumably because her fading sunburn itched. She was disturbing the dust motes he was observing in the fading orange light. Because of course he wouldn't be looking at her. Why would he, Cedric, look at her, Hermione Jane Granger? And of course he didn't know her middle name. That was just silly. Or at least, that was what he told himself…_

_Fact Number three: They had the same favourite season, (winter) although this wasn't discovered until the final battle. More specifically, the hours immediately preceding the final battle. They were so desperate for distraction they sat up, watching the other students sleep, speaking in unhurried murmurs of things both mundane and significant in their respective lives. They started sitting, but by the time the light was slipping in the windows, sliding along the walls like water, rising quickly, too quickly, they found themselves in various states of lying down, spread across their charges and each other, immersed in the temporary haven they'd created in the middle of this war strewn world, the stench of fear and death lingering just outside the room they were in, which smelled of fire and friendship and secrets. The memory of his whispers was what would keep Hermione fighting during parts of that day, that day that should have been unendurable, and was to many…but amazingly, they made it through. Cedric, too, would find that reciting the things he'd learned about her helped him to keep his mind working properly, amidst the chaos around him. _

_Truth Number four: Despite popular __**fandom**__ belief, Hermione was not afraid of flying __**or**__ heights. No, she merely found flying to be inefficient. What with floo powder and apparition on the horizon, Hermione just preferred to get things done quickly…and with as little damage to her hair as possible. It was already a mess, there was no need to make it even worse. In fact, Hermione had always loved muggle flying. Airplanes always gave her a delightful shiver. However, as soon as Cedric got wind of this, he set about to introduce Hermione to 'the joys of flying'. Which is how they ended up with an actual fireworks/1812 overture playing in the background first kiss. Literally._

_Truth Number Five: Hermione cries when she reads sad books. Even after the war, she retained her ability to cry 'at the drop of a bloody pin' according to Ron. Cedric always referred to her as 'his favourite hosepipe'...which would make her stop long enough to brandish her wand threateningly at him. _

_Truth Number Six: Cedric saved the wrong girl on purpose. During the second task, he had been debating with himself ever since he noticed that Cho wasn't in the crowd either. He then realized that his and Viktor's people were the people they went to the Yule Ball with…and decided to go with it as a cover. But 'the thing he would miss the most', Cedric knew, was not Cho. He also doubted that Hermione was the one Viktor would miss the most, but who was he to say. But screw the others, he knew it was Hermione he should have rescued from those murky depths on a cold morning in February. _

_Truth Number Seven: Hermione was not superstitious, did not put anything into divination at all… but she always wished on her eyelashes. The first time Cedric saw her doing this, he thought she was crazy. Blowing on her finger, sitting under the tree next to the lake, on one of the coldest days in Hogwarts history. She later conceded that she probably looked insane. Cedric came to find her little habit endearing, and made it a habit of his own to point out any stray eyelashes on her cheeks._

_Truth Number Eight: The first time Cedric saw Hermione cry, he was amazed at the effect it had on him. He found himself leaning over to catch a tear on the pad of his thumb..., which he then licked. It worked, she laughed._

_Truth Number Nine: Cedric loved watching Hermione read. She was often too absorbed to notice that he was staring, and the first time she caught him was in the library in her 4__th__ year. (The first time Cedric watched her reading was in __**his**__ 4__th__ year—she was a year 2. No, he was not a pervert, he just found her amusing and slightly fascinating—the way she was so anxious to learn everything she could. He respected that.) _

_Truth Number Ten: Cedric kept the black Labrador he transfigured during the first task. __He named it Bucephales. Hermione tormented him about this- saying a Labrador was hardly akin to a horse, and that Cedric was definitely not an Alexander the Great. Cedric bristled indignantly over her slights to Ceph, as he came to be known, and laughed at her belittlements of himself – he knew she loved him anyway._

_Truth Number Eleven: To t__his day, Cedric maintains that the best birthday present he ever received was in his sixth year. Somewhere, buried in boxes, a piece of parchment with Harry's messy scrawl on the first three lines, and Hermione's neat script on the last, stated that Cedric was the fourth member of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. _

_Number Twelve: Cedric's birthday __is two years minus a month and six days before Hermione's. (Comment if you're too lazy to figure this out. I'll tell you. )_

_Number Thirteen: __Cedric loves sunflowers. Not only are they Hufflepuff colours, he feels they have a simplistic beauty that's not too overdone. Just there – for anyone with the eyes to see._

_Number fourteen:__ Hermione always used to wish for a twin sister – she always thought that it would have been so fun to have a twin. Someone to understand you completely, someone you could talk to about anything and they wouldn't judge you. She wanted to be __**that close**__ to someone. To be able to read each others thoughts, and know what they were feeling. Rationally, she knew that there were probably countless downsides to having a twin. No privacy, identity problems, and other…probably very important…issues…but she still wanted one._

_Number Fifteen: __Hermione had a teeny tiny bit of a hand fetish. She loves hands. Her fathers hands were protecting, always there to catch her. As the years went on, Harry's hands were there, although she supported him a fair amount as well. Ron's hands, warm and huge, which actually summed up __**Ron**__ rather well. Cedric's hands. Larger than hers, but not so big she felt dwarfed. Slightly freckled, but nowhere near Ron's. His fingers are on the longer side, artsy looking, she thinks. Hermione hates art. It's not that she doesn't appreciate it – she just feels that it's somewhat useless. Of course, this opinion isn't at all influenced by the fact that she has no artistic talent whatsoever. _

_Number Sixteen: One of the things Hermione was somewhat insecure about was her hair. Not surprising, considering how many people commented on it. She knew it was bushy, and unmanageable__…but she had grown rather fond of it over the years. She didn't like messing with it because of the time and effort… and she felt maybe it should be left alone. Sometimes. Most days it annoyed her. The first time she started to see it in a slightly brighter way was September 1__st__, her 3__rd__ year. She had left it down, telling herself it was just to make things easier. However, as soon as they arrived at the station, Molly Weasley looked at her and tsked. _

_"I wish you'd let me __**do**__ something with that hair of yours, dear. You could be so __**lovely.**__"_

_Hermione smiled and laughed it off, and she knew Mrs. Weasley meant well__…but it bothered her._

_"I just don't want__ a lot of fuss in the morning." Mrs. Weasley nodded."Well maybe it's not sensible for someone your age. But, still…" Hermione rolled her eyes, frustrated. She pulled a band from her wrist and wound it around her hair when a cold hand brushed her arm._

_"Don't" The boy with cool grey eyes smiled. "It looks nice." And before she could say anything, he was gone, in a rush of steam and chatter._

_Number Seventeen: __Cedric couldn't help noticing that at the start of term feast in his fifth year, Hermione's hair was loose, instead of pulled into it's usual ponytail, that it always managed to come loose from anyway. _

_Number Eighteen: She saw him turn away from her, right before he went in the maze. His fingers grazing his robes, where she knew his SPEW pin was tucked into the folds discreetly. She blockaded the tiny whisper of her mind into a corner, refusing to let its insistent voice be heard. She would see him in a few hours. She raised her head defiantly. He would be fine. He turned, so he wouldn't see the tiny tear belonging to the tiny whisper, making its way down her cheek. _

_Number Nineteen: He could see it. Feel it. Taste it. The Great Hall ablaze with the glory of Hufflepuff house, his housemates so thrilled at their claim to fame. But they had waited hundred of years for recognition. Surely they could survive more. But how many more? They __**deserved**__ this. They _**needed**_ this. Cedric knew what he had to do, as he stared into the warm glow of the polished gold surface._

_Number Twenty: The end of year feast. More subdued than usual, that year. The Hufflepuff table was nearly silent, in contrast to the Slytherin table, which was louder than ever. Hermione sat sandwiched between Harry and Ron, quietly absorbing the atmosphere, when a hand gently brushed her back. She looked up suddenly into a pair of cloudy grey eyes that held a silent question. She answered with a smile._


End file.
